“Oh.” Jake’s expression flickers. He leans closer to me, and I inhale all his sugar-and-cinnamon scent like he’s a life-size bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. “Yeah, well, I guess you’re right. I’m sorry too.”
The moment stretches too long, and my skin buzzes, all electric and hypersensitive, like I can feel Jake even though we’re not touching. My eyes flick to the curve of his lips, and the electricity grows, and I worry if one of us doesn’t speak soon, I’ll do something extremely regrettable. So I clear my throat and say, “It’s not like it matters. You’re not going to win the bonus.”
“You really think I can’t win?” Jake leans back and stretches, pulling one arm tight across his chest. He seems more amused than annoyed now. “Because I found that woman a book just now—not you.”
“It was a fluke,” I tell him and myself. “You can’t google up a perfect recommendation every time. People want a personal touch. They want you to vouch for a book.”
“Which is something you couldn’t do. Besides, people like search-engine-optimized results. They want to be led to exactly the right choice.” Jake’s expression shifts then, and he gets this evil smirk that makes my hairs raise.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Jake…,” I warn.
His smirk intensifies. “You know what? I’m going to straighten the shelves. The next customer is all yours. I’m sure you’re right. It’d be the upset of the century if I win the bonus.”
As he walks away, I call after him in a panic, “Why were you smiling when you said that? Jake!”
He doesn’t answer.
Darn it.
Why was he smiling when he said that?
* * *
I bite my nail as the Starbucks’ line inches forward. I’m overreacting. I know I’m overreacting. Jake can’t win the bonus. He’s messing with me, that’s all. And I’m being sensitive. I’ve always been a little sensitive. I once cried at a commercial for a carpet cleaner because the family was just so happy to have that new puppy, muddy paws and all. And the tension at home and Barbra’s impending breakdown is making me more on edge than usual, and why am I about to waste money at Starbucks when I didn’t even want to buy a smoothie, like what’s the point of a pick-me-up when there’s so much stress attached to it, and I just feel like one more tiny thing could topple me over, and—
I exhale a giant, shaky sigh.
“Whoa, what’s up with you?” a voice asks.
I spin around, muscles tense, but then relax when I see who it is. “Elliot!”
“I need caffeine,” he says. “This day has been way too long.”
“Agreed.” I smile. “The crowds at Make You Up looked intense.”
“So intense. It’s all hands on deck for the holidays, and I want to be seen as helpful since I’m trying to get a raise from Kim. Seriously, I sell twice as much product as anyone in that store, but she won’t give me a raise because I have a problem ‘listening to authority,’ or whatever. And yet she seems to have no qualms about having me close down the store tonight, and—”
“Wait!” I interrupt, an idea sparking. “You’re closing the store tonight?”
Elliot sighs as he runs his fingers through his perfectly tousled hair. His silver rings glint under the mall lights. “Yeah. Kim has to leave early for some hot yoga acupuncture meditation cult thing. I don’t know.”
“Hmm,” I say.
An entirely empty store full of makeup…
“You have something brewing in there.” Elliot taps my forehead. “Tell me!”
“Well… if you’re closing down the store, you know, the store with all the makeup, what if we film Geraldine’s first video there using the samples? Oh my god!” I jump. “I can even borrow a backdrop from an old event at Once Upon, so no one will recognize where we are. It’s totally seriously perfect!”
“I’m intrigued. But sounds risky.” We step up to the cashier, and Elliot orders. “Two grande peppermint mochas, please!”
“That’ll be eleven seventy-four,” the cashier says.
I freeze. I should split the cost, but he’s the one who ordered us something expensive when I was already feeling guilty about my plan to order a kid’s hot chocolate. Before I have a chance to react, Elliot inserts his card, and the cashier hands him a receipt.
“I’ll get us next time!” I say. “Promise.”
“Sounds good,” Elliot replies, totally unconcerned. I chew the inside of my cheek as we step to the side to wait for our drinks. “So, a video…”
“Yeah. What do you think? No pressure, though. I don’t want to get you in trouble!”
“I think…” Elliot trails off into a long pause before smiling at me. “I think it’s a fantastic idea, and I’m very much in!”
I squeal. “Really?”
“Really, really.”
And just like that, a giant weight lifts from my tiny shoulders. Helping Geraldine will be the perfect way to make her YouTuber dream come true, and as a bonus, distract me from any future stress spirals.
When our drinks are ready, I grab mine and take a sip. Pepperminty, chocolatey perfection. “I should head back to work,” I tell Elliot.
“Text coordinate details?” he asks.
“For sure!”
He gives me a quick, one-armed hug before we part ways. The shoppers quickly disappear him into the crowd. As I sip my drink, I pull out my phone and text Geraldine about tonight. She immediately sends back a slew of texts, mostly excitement with a medium dose of nerves. She says she’s not ready to post content online but that she’d love to do a practice video. Happiness floods through me as I sip my peppermint mocha and head back to Once Upon. I’m bolstered by sugar and friends and ready to sell a lot of freaking books.
Chapter Six
Jake leaves halfway through my double shift, so the rest of the day goes by without incident. Well, there are customer incidents. Like the customer who insists on only boy book recommendations for her son and scoffs, literally scoffs, when I hand her a book with a girl protagonist. And then there’s the ten-minute-long, painstaking conversation I have with a customer who said he preordered a book for pickup on Wednesday and why isn’t it here yet, and I said yes, well, it’s only Monday, and he said, yes, but I ordered for pickup Wednesday, and I barely resisted the urge to scream, That isn’t how time works, sir!
But, you know, that’s just retail life.
And then my period started, and I didn’t have a tampon on me, so I borrowed one from Tanya, a mother of two who carries everything from tampons to graham crackers to Tide to Go pens on her at all times. She’s such a good person she’ll probably even carry around an emergency tampon for other people once she’s post-menopause. I make a mental note to bring her some packets of chamomile tea since it’s her favorite, the break room is always out of it, and it seems to be the one thing she can’t fit into her Mary Poppins bag.
The afternoon wasn’t all bad, though. I sold an obscene amount of books, and even better, Ms. Serrano and I had a thirty-minute chat about a new romance series she loves, and then she gifted the books to me because she said they’re going to put her on that Hoarders show if she doesn’t start purging her personal library. And now it’s finally the end of my shift, and after two days of double shifts in a row, I’m bone tired, which is an expression my grandpa uses that I never understood until this moment.